


What are you so Afraid of?

by Gummichii



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Major Character Injury, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Quackity is insecure bastard, Sickfic, Soft Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sort of? - Freeform, Tags Are Hard, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wing Grooming, Winged Alexis | Quackity, no beta we die like tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gummichii/pseuds/Gummichii
Summary: Technoblade finds a certain fool lying half-dead in the snow whilst out on a patrol. He truly did contemplate simply leaving him there for the sake of his sanity, alas, his moral compass did prove to be intact as he wound up dragging him back to his cabin for some much needed TLC. Though the two have much to work through as they bite and snap at any semblance of weakness, neither wanting to offer up ground to the other.It gets worse before it gets better.------He should leave Quackity here, he really should. The man had done nothing but betray him, and hunt after him every chance that he got, but something about the desperation in the sight before him had him reaching out to grab at his arm. Quackity had clearly fought to not die here, and it would be a shame to lose such a rival to something as trivial as a little cold and a zombie.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 700





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo Hullo, I have shamelessly joined the QnB server and hopped the train with this fic.  
> I'm super invested in their possible dynamics and I want to explore it so much more outside of this fic.
> 
> A warning though for possibly triggering content:  
> This fic involves semi-graphic descriptions of medical procedures(Bandaging Quackity up) and descriptions of injuries and violence by extension.  
> If I'm missing any triggers for those who read this please let me know!

Letting his gaze travel further downwards, he felt his brow knit together at the sight of decomposing fingers which still clutched at the frozen man’s body. An unmoving zombie lay at Quackity’s side, its jaw still gaping with lifeless intent. Though upon closer inspection he found that the mob was in fact truly dead. He couldn’t help the quiet snort he gave in astonishment. He didn’t believe that a zombie alone had done this to Quackity, but he was as impressed as he was conflicted about the man’s clearly desperate struggle in the snow. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Using his cloven foot he lightly nudged Quackity’s side experimentally, and frowned when the man did little more than shiver and whine painfully. It was better than nothing though. With that, the piglin hybrid crouched down beside the shivering man, his head cocked to the side with an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. 

He should leave Quackity here, he really should. The man had done nothing but betray him, and hunt after him every chance that he got, but something about the desperation in the sight before him had him reaching out to grab at his arm. Quackity had clearly fought to not die here, and it would be a shame to lose such a rival to something as trivial as a little cold and a zombie.

“Hey, can you stand?” he asked gruffly as he grabbed at Quackity’s arm, praying to any god that this might jostle him enough to get him up. As he nearly dragged the man into an upright position, Quackity hissed out in pain and jerked away from him with a cry. The action sent the smaller figure toppling back into the snow, gasping from the cold and the sight of the mob at his side. Scrambling back from Techno and the zombie, he raised his knife towards the piglin threateningly.

“Stay—Stay the fuck away from me!” he heard him snap, the chatter in his teeth making him stutter and stumble as half-lidded eyes fought to keep open. His false bravado was almost palpable as he shook like a leaf beneath the falling snow which clustered around his thick lashes.

“Quackity, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Techno tried to reason as he raised his hands and spread his fingers in a symbol of mock submission. He just needed Quackity to lower his guard for a moment. The man would hurt himself unintentionally like this. When he noticed Quackity lowering his hand a fraction, letting out a shuddering breath, Techno sprung forward in an instant. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he couldn’t risk letting _Quackity_ of all people have a knife in this instance. Grabbing his wrist and dragging Quackity closer to keep him from hurting himself. Said man squawked in defiance, struggling in vain as his back was pressed to Techno’s chest, and the knife was pried forcibly from his hands. The action was admittedly much more difficult than Techno first suspected, and he was surprised at the sheer force it took to peel back each finger. As soon as the knife fell uselessly into the snow, he felt Quackity’s fingers flex desperately before latching onto Techno’s wrist with enough force to make the piglin hybrid wince in surprise.

The vulnerability of being disarmed seemed to sap the last fight out of the defiant warrior as a pained whine left his lips and he went lax against Techno in shivering defeat.

“I don’ need yr’ fucking pity” he heard Quackity slur as Techno readjusted his hold on him.

Offering a noncommittal grunt in return, Technoblade rose back to his feet with what could only be a bad idea resting against his chest. Truly, he was a bit surprised at just how light the man was. That couldn’t be healthy, right? Probably.

It was admittedly difficult to get back to the cabin with only one hand accessible to threaten mobs with, though it seemed that his earlier display had a vast majority of them giving the two a wide berth. Quackity had yet to release his wrist in what could only be described as a bone-crushing hostage, which made it that much harder to fend off the mobs that did decide to test his waning patience. Despite his constricting hold, he suspected that the man had passed out some time earlier. His shuddering breath eventually evening out as best as it could as his head dropped a final time against Techno’s chest, partially tucked beneath his flowing robes.

Kicking open the door with a huff of relief, he couldn’t help the muffled apology he gave at how hard Quackity jumped at the sound. Foggy eyes briefly opened in alarm before dropping back into a restless sleep as Techno unhooked his cloak with one hand and draped it over the table as a cushion before laying Quackity down on it. Almost immediately, Quackity gave a shriek of what could only be pain as he rolled onto his side and curled further in on himself, dragging Techno with him as he held his wrist tighter. A choked sob leaving the injured man’s lips as he shook. Wincing in pain, Techno tried once again to tug his hand free, though it only resulted in another pathetic whine from the other as he held impossibly tighter. Where was this strength in their past fights?

“What the fuck am I doing?” he wondered aloud as he was finally able to get a good look at what he was working with while planning an escape for his stolen hand to get to work. 

It wasn’t good. On Top of looking absolutely frozen to the bone, he seemed as though he’d gotten in a fight recently, and a brutal one at that. He needed to get a better look at those wounds, especially at his back judging by the raw reaction he’d gotten just moments before. To do that though, he’d need his other hand back.

Gently as his clawed hands were capable of, he began peeling off each finger slowly. Quackity’s grip was stiff and unyielding without a bit of pressure on Techno’s part, and to his alarm once his hand was free, he could see sharp nails beginning to dig into the palm of his hand. “Wait—fuck don’t do that!” he snapped as he scrambled in surprise for the edge of his cloak in a half-baked hope his idea would work. Shoving the soft fabric of his red cloak into Quackity’s hands. He couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped in relief once he saw the man’s nails curl uselessly against the plush fabric.

Satisfied with his work, he stepped away from the table to go fetch the supplies he knew Phil had recently stocked up on. Though Techno had initially scoffed at the thought of its necessity, he was quite thankful for the thought in hindsight. Shoving the first aid kit under one arm, he bundled several potions he thought he might need in the other. Pausing in his return just to put some old stew on the stove. Food was always a good idea after consuming any potion, and he hoped that it might heat the man up as well.

When he returned, he was glad to see that Quackity had not moved. Dropping his supplies within an arm's reach, he proceeded to drag a stool over for the finer details of his task. With his workstation properly organized, he began to methodically unbutton both Quackity’s torn shirt. He’d contemplated simply cutting it off of him, but he wanted to offer his former rival at least a shred of respect. Easing the drowsy man up, he slowly began peeling the shirt back to properly inspect and clean his wounds.

He’d just barely begun to pull it off his back when he felt the man abruptly stiffen beneath him, his only sign before he was frantically pushed back. Thankfully, his hands were still clenched around his cloak, and thus minimized the possibility of injuring both himself further and Techno. Albeit it didn’t mean that he wasn’t frustrated at the interruption.

“Don’t touch me!” He heard Quackity shout in alarm as he scrambled back, delirious and shaking as he nearly slid right off the table. “I fucking bite you pig-headed motherfucker!” he continued, glaring Technoblade down to the best of his foggy-eyed ability.

“Quackity your wounds need treating, and your clothes need to dry or you’ll risk hypothermia, if you don’t have it already from taking a nap in the snow.” Technoblade tried to reason as he reached again for the edge of his shirt. His frustration growing as Quackity flinched back and tried to shield himself with the cloak. He didn’t understand why he didn’t simply let the damn thing go. “It’s for your own good, you’ll die without it.” he tried again, gesturing down to Quackity’s already bare and battered chest for proof. When said man refused to budge, Techno sighed as he relented, and tried a softer approach instead. Lifting his hands up in surrender once again before taking a step towards the shivering man. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Quackity. Trust me.” He promised as he put a knee on the table to better lean towards him at an agonizingly slow pace. Honestly, this was not unlike dealing with a spooked animal if he really thought about it. He was never one for softness with people, but he felt that he’d do more harm than good if he simply dragged Quackity back down.

Regardless of his gestures, Quackity remained stubborn as an ox, no matter many times he flinched back when Techno felt his muscles tense. However, he thankfully did not flinch back when Techno finally eased close enough to grab the torn edge of the shirt. Whether Quackity even noticed it yet was a matter for debate in of itself if the glassy look in his eyes was anything to go off of. Nevertheless, he wasted little time in giving the shirt a light tug till it pooled around the shivering man’s smaller waist.

In hindsight, perhaps this wasn’t as much of a surprise, but at this moment Techno couldn’t help the way his eyes involuntarily widened. Jaw slack as what looked like gold spilled out from Quackity’s back. Twisted feathers fell in a graceless heap upon the table before they weakly began to rise and stretch out, one bent a little too far inward as Quackity shut his eyes briefly in what might have been pain. They looked soft despite the crusted blood which clumped sections of downy feathers together, and Techno caught himself before he could reach the wing to begin grooming it as he’d done for Phil on many occasions. Unfortunately, the sight of Techno’s hand coming closer had Quackity fully flaring his wings out, his vision clearer than it had been all night as though trying to make himself as large as possible. A feat which was almost laughable when compared to the hulking figure that was The Blade.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it,” he heard the man—Hybrid? Seethe in warning.

Was this why he’d been so hostile? He didn’t want Techno to know he was a hybrid? As his ear flicked insistently at the thought, he realized with a huff that he’d been staring at the defiant face of a clearly posturing Quackity.

“I won’t for now...just—just lay back down, alright?” Techno tried to coax with a

dismissive wave.

As if called down from the heavens out of pure spite, a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the shudders of the house, and shook its foundation with a fury that only a blizzard could manage. The thundering sound had Quackity careening off the table in surprise. His delicate wings splayed out and flapping frantically as he dashed for the door. Sputtering in momentary shock, Techno quickly caught himself with a snap of “stay down!” as he almost effortlessly caught the struggling little bird with one hand. Holding him up off the ground, he heard the rattled shriek of Quackity as his wings flared up to threaten the piglin. Though Techno’s patience was running thin as he shook the captured hybrid in warning, an animalistic snarl left his lips that had Quackity frozen in place as Techno dropped him back on the table.

Shakily, Quackity settled back down. Tremors wracking his body as it seemed that the last bits of adrenaline were rolling off him and seeping into the floorboards. Going lax, Techno might have assumed he was asleep if not for the occasional hiccuping gasp he gave as Techno ran a warm, wet cloth over his wounds. It seemed that not all of the wounds were caused at the same time, Techno noted with another curious flick of his droopy ears. 

The majority of them looked as though they’d been done with a blade, but he spied a sizable bite-shaped wound in his side which contrasted such a theory. Presumably, the damage done by the zombie. He made sure to take extra care when disinfecting it, and couldn’t help himself as he ran a soothing hand through Quackity’s sweaty, clumping hair, when the man hissed and tried to thrash away from the pain with a hitched cry.

“Just a little longer,” he promised as he grimaced at the needle and thread he pulled out next.

“You’ve said that three times now,” Quackity groaned groggily. His glossy eyes staring Techno down with unshed tears stubbornly kept in. Even half-frozen and beyond battered, the man refused to allow himself to cry. If it weren’t so unnecessary, Techno might have admired his stubbornness.

The stitches were arguably the worst part of the procedure, with Quackity cursing to the heavens above each time Techno had to pinch skin together, but they did it. Somehow. By the time they were done, Quackity was lying almost peacefully on the table. Finally having slipped back into unconsciousness sometime after very nearly tearing his throat as Techno reset one of his crooked wings.

Wiping sweat from his own brow, the piglin hybrid looked down upon the man. He looked...well he looked almost criminally small like this. Curled up on his side and shivering while clutching desperately at a cloak that Techno prayed he’d get back at the end of the day.

What was he supposed to do now? Quackity was no longer in danger of bleeding out or infecting himself, but he was still cold.

Scratching the back of his neck almost nervously, he let out a groan of a dawning realization. A faint memory of hot cocoa by the fireplace coming to mind as he gently eased Quackity back into his arms. Once again reminded of how concerningly light the man was, though he could at least hope that it was a byproduct of his hybrid nature and not malnourishment. As he lifted Quackity off of the table, cloak still wrapped around him, he tensed at the light sniffle the man gave. Though when he made no indication of having fully woken up, techno sighed in relief. He was tired, and he didn’t want to fight Quackity again. Quietly, he began to make his way towards the crackling fireplace just past Edward, who warbled in greeting.

As Techno approached the fire, he felt its warmth wash over him, and by a blessed extension, Quackity. He couldn’t rest just yet though. Supporting Quackity with one arm, he began to pull his folded blankets off of the couch, along with a miscellaneous assortment of pillows. Strewing them upon the ground, he began to arrange them with his hoof till he was satisfied with his makeshift nest. He didn’t really know if the effort was worth it, but he hoped that it would at the very least be warm.

To be quite honest, he was too tired to care about the finer details of his gesture. He was tired, and he wanted to make sure that the both of them made it through the night without either a homicide or an accident. Slowly easing himself down, he pulled Quackity closer to ensure that his head was properly supported against his shoulder. One hand cradling the back of it while he got himself fully situated on his back. His actions were logical, tactical even! That’s what he told himself as he properly adjusted Quackity so that he was lying atop his chest with his head resting in the crook of his neck. He didn’t want to risk injuring the hybrid’s wings any further, so he allowed them to drape freely upon the ground as he pulled a blanket over the two of them.

As he encircled one arm around his waist, he let his other hand rest lightly on the nape of Quackity’s neck. He couldn’t help the pleased rumble in his chest when he felt one of Quackity’s hands come to rest on his shoulder. He hoped that the release of his newly freed cape was a good sign. As he began to rub small circles against the other’s skin, he couldn’t help but bask in the moment whilst he nodded off.

It had been so long.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you even know how to groom yourself?” he asked bluntly.
> 
> Quackity’s instinctual response was to fight back and lie to his grave, though he found a barbed reply dying on his tongue as the piglin approached him slowly and took a seat behind him, an expectant look in his eye. Finally, Quackity gave a sullen shake of his head. He was lost.
> 
> “Do you want me to do it?” he heard Techno ask softly. Gentle hands trailed experimentally through his feathers as Quackity shuddered beneath him. A shameful part of him desperately leaned back into the touch, craving the contact that he’d been deprived of for so long. Even Schlatt couldn’t coax such a content trill from his lips when Techno began to knead at the space where his wings met his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come get your shameless cuddling.

Quackity felt, well he felt warm. Cozy even. A feeling he hadn’t known in what felt like eons.

His eyelids were still heavy, and he contemplated snuggling further into the warmth surrounding him and slipping off into unconsciousness once again. He nearly did, just barely clinging to the strings of consciousness until he felt the warmth beneath him shift.

Almost immediately he tried to reel back with a gasp of surprise, but strong arms kept him pressed down to what he now knew to be a chest with a muffled grunt of discomfort making his own chest rattle by extension. A large hand twitched across the space between his wings as sharp nails scratched gently at the sensitive feathers that met his skin. The gesture made him nearly melt as he gasped and squirmed. It felt _good_ , and that alone was enough to scare him.

“Would ya’ stop movin?” a gravelly voice thick with sleep grumbled from beneath him, the sound vibrating through both of their chests as Quackity squawked in surprise.

“Why am I here?’ Quackity heard himself whisper against Technobalade’s collarbone. Hating himself for the way his voice cracked when the hand returned to running lazily through his feathers. What was Techno playing at? Was he going to die?

“What, y’don’t remember?” Techno replied instead, ever the cryptic bastard, the piglin tilting his head back with a sigh as he almost begrudgingly opened his arms for Quackity to sit upright. Within a heartbeat, the bird hybrid had shot up and scrambled back from where he’d been draped over his chest. His wings ruffled in alarm as he looked around wildly, feeling quite like a caged animal as he searched for the door.

“I remember...I-” He remembered a netherite blade to his throat, threatening to take another life. He could still feel the fight, could still hear Dream’s taunting shouts in his head at the slight tremble in Quackity’s hands as he held his own axe. He recalled being cold—so very cold. “I thought I died, I did die!” he corrected as a hand went to trace a thin wound over his neck. After a moment of consideration, he rose it a little higher to the trailing scar that stitched the edges of his mouth back together. It was a chilling wake-up call to the reality he found himself in.

“You were out in the snow, little birdie. What were you doing there?” Techno pressed as he propped himself up on his elbows. His words snapping Quackity out of his spiraling thoughts as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Lifting his head, he noticed Techno’s shameless stare with an unreadable expression which only made the smaller hybrid bristle even more.

“What does it matter to you? I seem to recall that you’ve had no problems killing me in the past. You should have left me, I would have been fine.” he bit out bitterly, his venomous tongue making Techno frown. A reaction which Quackity craved, still reeling from the soft vulnerability that he’d found himself in only moments earlier.

“I only attacked you within reason. You came after me, don't forget that.” Techno reminded him as his red eyes landed on the scar which marred his face.

Quackity was having none of it though as he struggled to his feet with a huff, making it only a few steps before he collapsed back to the ground with a barely bitten off shout of pain. “Fuck!”

“Stop trying to get up you idiot!” he heard Techno distantly snap in surprise. He was vaguely aware of careful hands grabbing his shoulders and guiding him back to the nest of blankets he’d woken up in.

“Then tell me why you’re doing all of...this?!” Quackity asked as he distanced himself as much as he could from the pig whilst still keeping himself within the strangely comforting nest. Downy wings curling closer as though it would shield him from the Blood God himself. A monster in his own right with the memory of the pickaxe swinging at him still fresh in his mind. The echo of explosions still left his ears ringing at the worst of times. He hated it, and he wanted to hate him too, or at least remind himself that Techno hated him too.

He _needed_ to be hated.

“I didn’t think you deserved to die like that, alone in the snow.” Techno finally said with a shrug that Quackity just barely caught.

That seemed to be the last straw for Quackity though as he whirled around with a shrill hiss slipping past his lips. The gesture bringing out an involuntary growl in return from Techno. “And why not? Why not Technoblade!?” He shouted as he pointed at him accusingly.

“It’s not like you’ve hesitated before now. What? Feeling guilty? Feeling guilty for taking away m—our chance of freedom? Guilty for siding with that green bastard?” he snarled. A tumble of words that he’d regret later filling the house as his shoulders shook and his eyes grew teary from the weight that fell upon his chest. Tears that he couldn’t shed no matter how heavy they felt.

“That was different, and you know that. Don’t blame me for what I had to do, Quackity.” Techno snapped warningly. “L’manburg was a ticking time bomb, one way or another it was going to blow. Did you want Tubbo to become like Schlatt? Like Wilbur? Or maybe...just maybe you expected something worse?” he snarled, his shoulders squared as he matched Quackity’s clear frustration with his own.

“I would never! I just-”

“You just wanted power, Quackity.”

His words made the bird hybrid jerk back as though he’d been burnt. Though his eyes narrowed as he stared defiantly at his ‘savior’. “Yes, I did.” he admitted bitterly.

An uncomfortable silence filled the house after that as the two stared each other down, neither willing to surrender any ground at the risk of seeming weak. It felt like ages before Techno finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He hadn’t wanted to fight Quackity again. That being said, he would not back down from this, believing himself to be in the right, but he would have to offer at least something to ensure that Quackity would even let him get close again. Now why he even wanted such a thing was beyond him, but he could unpack that ball of confusion at a later date.

“Do you...Do you want some stew?” he asked slowly. It was the best peace offering he could come up with on the spot.

There were a few tense moments of silence as Quackity weighed his options. Finally, he nodded silently. Visible relief crossed Techno’s face and his shoulders dropped and he made his way into the kitchen to fish out two bowls of stew.

Quackity was thankful for the peace he found in isolation, even if it was temporary. It allowed him to at least try and sort out his thoughts. He was angry for starters. Angry at himself, angry at Technoblade, angry at Dream. Was there a moment that he wasn’t angry? Wasn’t frustrated with the cards he’d been dealt and the villainization he felt when he so desperately reached for more than he’d been born with. Was it truly so bad? He tried not to think so. He knew he was greedy. He didn’t need Techno’s silent judgement to confirm that, or Dream’s cutting taunts and jabs that cut deeper than any sword.

He was sharply jerked out of his thoughts by a cloven hoof nudging his leg. A bowl of stew had been offered to him like an olive branch which Quackity took without hesitation. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He was hungry, hungry and exhausted from holding up the weight that was his own pride.

He didn’t even realize how hungry he was till he’d inhaled the entire bowl in a matter of minutes. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he found Techno staring at him with an amused expression which immediately had Quackity’s feathers ruffling in embarrassment.

“What’s so funny, wise guy?” he snapped.

A laugh had him squawking in disbelief as Techno’s chest rumbled in good humor. “For all your posturing, you’re just like the rest of us, right?” he asked with a quizzical brow raised.

“Like what?” He asked in disbelief.

“A mess.” Techno clarified with faux politeness.

The offended gasp that Quackity gave was quickly followed up with a string of curses and empty threats as Techno hummed in acknowledgement whilst taking the bowls to wash them. The heavy tension in the air had finally melted away despite Quackity’s continued arguing over how much he resented the comparison. It definitely wasn’t a cure-all to the deep-rooted pain between the two of them, but a temporary truce was better than nothing at all.

When the sound of running water and light humming filled the house, Quackity spared himself a moment to properly inspect the state he was in. Stretching out his small wings to the best of his ability, and subsequently cringing at the state they’d been left in. He’d never been good at preening, but even he couldn’t help the dismay that filled his gut at the sheer disarray his feathers had been left in.

With a great deal of hesitation, Quackity began trying to straighten out his feathers to the best of his ability. The hybrid had admittedly spent much of his life neglecting the part of him that separated him from his peers. From hiding his ‘ears’ beneath a beanie, to nearly suffocating his wings beneath jackets and suits to keep them small and manageable. He’d always been scared.

He hated being scared. As he manhandled his feathers into a misshapen mimicry of what they once looked like, he heard an almost disappointed sigh from behind him. Lowering his wing, he caught sight of Techno watching him with his arms crossed upon his chest.

“Do you even know how to groom yourself?” he asked bluntly.

Quackity’s instinctual response was to fight back and lie to his grave, though he found a barbed reply dying on his tongue as the piglin approached him slowly and took a seat behind him, an expectant look in his eye. Finally, Quackity gave a sullen shake of his head. He was lost.

“Do you want me to do it?” he heard Techno ask softly. Gentle hands trailed experimentally through his feathers as Quackity shuddered beneath him. A shameful part of him desperately leaned back into the touch, craving the contact that he’d been deprived of for so long. Even Schlatt couldn’t coax such a content trill from his lips when Techno began to knead at the space where his wings met his skin.

He couldn’t bring himself to voice his answer, though his mouth did open with another choked chirp. He wanted so desperately to beg for more, to ensure that Techno wouldn’t take his hands away, but his pride squashed any hope of his voice returning. Thankfully, Techno seemed to understand as he continued to gently preen the stubborn bird who practically melted beneath his skilled fingers. He didn’t even pry.

They stayed like that for a long while. With Techno humming whilst he pulled Quackity apart with gentle precision. Fingers now slick with an oil that Quackity didn’t even know he had as he worked it into each feather. Each touch earned the piglin a quiet trill of contentment, though he was kind enough not to comment on it just yet. After their previous fight, he didn’t want to risk ruining the fragile peace that they’d just barely established.

It was an active effort to keep his eyes open at this point, but Techno was a steady, stable force behind him that kept him steady. Eventually, he began to speak, though he couldn’t quite say why.

“It was Dream,” he began in a tired whisper, his admission earning him a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“I was stupid,” he continued with a humorless laugh. He truly was a fool for thinking that he alone could take on the incomprehensible force that was Dream, but he couldn’t help it. The bastard knew just how to push his buttons, and damn well knew that Quackity refused to back down from a challenge. So, when the god held a sword to what Quackity held close, who was he to refuse a fight? Deep down he’d known that he wouldn’t win. How could he? He hadn’t even been able to land a proper hit on Technoblade in godforsaken iron armor, but he was a stubborn creature by nature. Schlatt had told him once that he simply never learned to stop fighting, and to this day that quote remained true.

“I just-” his voice cracked as he hung his head as though trying to hide. “He’s hurt everyone, Techno. He’s done so much fucking damage, and how much of it has he paid for? Nothing!” his voice shook as he felt his clawed fingers flex in warning.

Techno paused his preening briefly, seeming to be mulling over what Quackity had revealed. It had been Dream after all. It was **Always** Dream.

“So you tried to fight him?” He asked instead.

A nod was all he got as Quackity took in a shuddering breath.

“You’re right, that was stupid.” Techno admitted as he traced his fingers over the bones outlining his wings. When Quackity stiffened beneath him, Techno was quick to continue, “but I understand why you did it, and respect it even. You’re a stubborn birdbrain, but you don’t give up.”

The praise surprised Quackity, and he felt his wing twitch as his chest grew warm with an unfamiliar emotion. He so rarely felt honest praise.

“I think I’m beginning to understand you a little better,” Techno continued as he finally resumed his gentle touches. Though Quackity suspected that they were fixed by now, he would rather lose his last life than tell Techno to stop touching him.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that yeah, you’re a stubborn, greedy bastard,” Techno mused in that same monotone voice, “but you’re very brave, and I respect you even if I disagree with you.”

Quackity was at a loss for words, a rarity in of itself as he stared silently out at the fire. A part of him still felt the need to lash out at him, but he so seldom heard someone so—so blissfully blunt. It was a breath of fresh air, and for once, he wasn’t angry. That in of itself was scary to him, and he tried desperately to find the anger which had accompanied him for many years, but it was gone. At least for now, he was at peace.

It was scary. Scarier than facing down Technoblade in the sewers, scarier than any wither, perhaps even scarier than Dream, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it.

Eventually, Quackity felt himself leaning further and further back against Techno. Till the man was supporting almost the entirety of his weight without complaint. It wasn’t until he felt a small nudge to his cheek that he even realized that his back was pressed flush against techno’s chest. Opening his eyes slowly, he gave a muffled huff of complaint when he felt Techno try and move away from him.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered, as though he was worried that if he spoke any louder it might shatter what was left of his false bravado. His plea made his throat feel tight, wanting to curl away from any semblance of insecurity on instinct, but he forced himself to stay. He had to know, had to see if he was alone again.

There was a moment of hesitation in the man behind him, before he felt the light nudge again at his neck, realizing a moment later that it was Techno’s upturned nose. “I’m not going anywhere,” came his low promise, “do you want to lay back down?”

Perhaps...Perhaps just for a night he could be vulnerable. Techno, for all his faults, was an honest man, and Quackity trusted him to keep his promise. He was so tired of waking up alone after all.

And so, he let himself be guided back into their nest of pillows and blankets. Techno once again encouraging Quackity to lay on his chest so that the smaller could drape his wings across the two of them like an angelic shield. With one hand encircling Quackity’s back, the other came to rest in Quackity’s hair. Legs tangled together in a mess of blissed out relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Spare comments and kudos? I'm a shameless attention whore who soaks up any semblance of praise/constructive criticsm.


End file.
